Broken Wings
by AlwaysAndForeverAfter
Summary: AU: Santana is broken. She always has been. She always lived a life of broken homes, drugs, fighting, drinking, parties and empty relationships. To her, it's hard to fall down any further when she was born at rock bottom. The last thing she expected to find in her life was a light in the shape of a blue eyed stranger. But will she be able to teach Santana to live again? T for now
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again :)**

**This fic started with just a sentence. (the third paragraph, actually) And then it turned into this. I've learned that my fics have a common theme, but twisted, broken minds are something I can write about with ease.**

**I decided to take a bit of a risk with this one though and changed it stylistically. It's written differently than most anything else I've published on here. But I love the way this chapter came out. It's just an idea though. Let me know if anyone's actually interested in me continuing it. I have a good idea with how I want this to go, but I know that this fic is a shot in the dark.**

**Again, as always, I own nothing but the twisted world I throw these characters in.**

**I hope you enjoy :)**

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Santana didn't drink often, but when she did, she partied hard. Shot after shot of alcohol as strong as gasoline were poured down her throat until the party around her reduced to a colorful blur. The bass was so hard that she could feel it pounding deep in her chest and all the way down to where the soles of her dark red Converse met the floor. Lights of reds and blues and greens flashed before her eyes, drawing her further and further into them. She closed her lids and felt her body sway to the music, being taken away by the thrashing guitars and drums.

In times like this, Santana could ignore the world. Santana could pretend that it was just her and her body and the music. Life didn't exist. The thirty odd people in the room with her weren't there, and she wasn't at another random house party. Santana just _was_.

And then when morning came and she began to sober up and the world began to come crashing back down into the twisted reality she lived, it crushed her with an overbearing weight.

She was disrupted from her solo dancing by a rough hand being placed on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and was met with the flirty smile of a boy.

Santana put on her charm. She moved her hips in that way that she knew would have him hypnotized. She backed herself up so that she could feel the warmth coming from his body. His hands were soon on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck when he spoke. "You wanna take this upstairs?"

Santana didn't hesitate to nod yes and allow herself to be pulled across the living room and towards the staircase. Her legs were barely walking in a straight line, and so she shut her eyes, finding the world slightly more tolerable like that. His firm, hot grasp on her wrist led her where she needed to go.

Halfway up the staircase, Santana just so happened to open her eyes. Her breath got caught in her throat as she found a pair of incredibly blue eyes looking back at her. It felt as if the world stood still, and these eyes could penetrate straight through her very being and see all of Santana's deepest, darkest secrets.

Never had she ever felt more naked and vulnerable.

Her eyes remained locked onto the beautiful blonde face that the eyes belonged to before she was pulled further up the stairs and into the nearest bedroom.

Within moments, Santana felt the hard wood of the door on her back as she was slammed into it with a frightening force.

She didn't flinch.

His lips were on hers quickly, fighting for dominance as his rough, calloused hands explored under her shirt, running worn fingers over the smooth skin of her stomach. They traveled further until they met the edge of her bra.

Santana let him.

In one quick motion, his strong arms picked up her tiny body and carried her over to the bed, never once breaking contact with her lips, even as he dropped her into the pale blue comforter. Her eyes were closed, but she could taste the air he was exhaling as he panted and roamed across her body with his hands. Those hands grabbing at the edges of her shirt, trying to will it off. And so she lifted up ever so slightly to make it easier on him. Those same hands pulling at her pants to slide them down her narrow hips, and she lifted herself up to help.

And her eyes stayed closed as she heard the sound of the zipper of his pants and the rustling of fabric as he stripped himself of his clothes before taking off her panties.

Santana helped take her bra off.

This is something she was good at. Something she was always good at. She knew how to make herself feel completely numb while a guy slammed his sweaty, disgusting body into her. She knew how to make all the right noises to make them feel like they were doing a good job.

But it never left her with anything more than a feeling of utter emptiness inside. And it didn't help that this time, she had the vision of haunting blue eyes etched in her brain.

Judging her.

Filled with shock, concern, and disappointment. As if they knew what was going to happen when Santana went upstairs.

Her mind remained on those blue eyes as he pulled out and gave her a rough kiss on the lips, telling her how amazing and hot she was before he started getting himself dressed again. Santana lay on the bed just watching him until he left her alone. Then and only then did she gather up her clothing and dress herself. She looked into the mirror into her own eyes.

Hollow. Broken. Sad.

She couldn't find any other words. Her eyes spoke of everything brewing within her.

And so she tousled her hair a bit and headed out of the room and down the stairs with her shoes in her hand. As she walked out the door, she felt a pair of blue eyes digging into her back, but she didn't turn around.

The coldness of the early autumn air had chilled the sidewalk, making it cold beneath Santana's bare feet. The occasional breeze nipped at her exposed arms and legs, and waved her long brown hair behind her. Santana didn't let it affect her. She kept walking. She knew she had a bit of a walk before she was at her house.

Always a house and never a home.

The quiet of the night was disturbed by the hushed sound of a car slowly pulling up behind her. Even in her inebriated state, Santana's instinct made her body tense. She picked up her pace ever so slightly, keeping her head forward and not on the car that was now slowly coasting at her side.

The window rolled down and a voice met Santana's drunk ears. "You want a ride?"

Santana wasn't stupid. It didn't matter how drunk she was. She was never stupid enough to get a ride from a stranger. For what? So she could be raped, mugged, murdered and then disposed of in some alleyway? No thank you.

But this wasn't the voice of a creepy man with bad intentions. This was the voice of a girl. A sweet girl. Something in her voice made Santana stop and actually look in her direction. The moment Santana met concerned blue eyes, she nodded and walked over to the door and opened it, sliding down onto the leather seat without a word.

The blonde started slowly driving. No music was turned on in the car. Neither said a word. Santana's brain was torn. One side felt on high alert since she was in a car with a total stranger. And yet, the other side felt so relaxed and at ease in this stranger's presence that Santana closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the headrest and let out a breath.

"You'll have to tell me which way," the stranger said suddenly, startling Santana out of her peaceful relaxation. "I don't know where you live."

"Turn at the railroad tracks, go down two stoplights and turn right." Santana's voice sounded deep and scratchy, as if she had just woken up.

The girl nodded. "I'm Brittany, by the way," she added. "Figure I might as well introduce myself."

Santana looked at her and nodded. _Brittany_. It suited her. Santana's eyes roamed _Brittany's_ face and took in every feature from her bright blue eyes, her thin pale lips, and the faint freckles on her cheek. Santana observed as Brittany's eyes quickly flitted off to the side, acutely aware of the fact that Santana was watching her.

"Why'd you pick me up?" Santana asked suddenly, causing Brittany to turn her head and look at the tanned brunette.

"Because you were drunk," Brittany stated, "and I didn't want you walking around drunk by yourself late at night."

"Why?" Santana questioned. "You don't know me. You would have no responsibility or guilt if I was raped or murdered or hit by a car or died of alcohol poisoning. You don't know me."

Brittany frowned, passing by the first streetlight. "Why are you mad? I was helping."

Santana shook her head and looked forward out the window again, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help."

"Everyone needs someone some times." Brittany made the right and pulled into a neighborhood. Houses were broken. Shutters falling off windows. Under the flickering street lights, a group of hooded figures turned to watch her car drive by. The whole situation gave Brittany chills.

"Not me," Santana said. "Stop here." They pulled up towards one of the slightly more well-kept houses. Without a word, Santana grabbed her shoes and opened her door, shutting it behind her as she walked up to her front door.

"Wait," she heard behind her. She turned around and saw Brittany with her window down. "What's your name?"

Santana paused for a moment. Normally, she wouldn't tell this girl. Everything in her better judgment said not to let this girl close to her. She didn't need to know her name. There was no point in formalities. But it didn't stop the fact that there was this tiny ounce of Santana's being that fought against that judgment and, ultimately, won.

"Santana," she called, and turned around and walked into her house. Without turning on the lights, she peered out the front window. A full two minutes passed before Brittany's car finally pulled away, and Santana walked down the hall to her bedroom in the darkness, counting out the steps.

16 steps forward.

Turn left.

She reached her hand out blindly and grabbed onto the doorknob, pulling it open to reveal nothing but more blackness. She shut the door behind her and started stripping herself of her clothes, tossing them haphazardly off to the sides into the overwhelming blackness during her walk to her bed.

She wrapped her tiny, naked body in the warmth of the comforter, cocooning herself within its safety. Whether her eyes were shut or open, she was left in total darkness with her thoughts swirling before her eyes like photos and videos, haunting her. Images of the party and of the boy and of Brittany's knowing eyes flashed through her mind. Santana didn't even notice when tears started to slowly fall.

And then the tears erupted. Her sobs moved her entire frame, leaving her short of breath and hiccupping for air. Desperate hands gripped onto the comforter, holding on to the ground around her with the fear that at any moment, she might just float away. She used all of the strength she had within her to anchor herself down to the life she lived. Her muscles trembled. Her lip quivered. Her eyes released a constant stream of tears that had no apparent stopping.

Until it did. Until her body was so exhausted that she couldn't seem to find the energy within herself to remain awake any longer and her body just gave way to everything, throwing her deep into a slumber that was destined to be haunted by a pair of blue eyes.

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**The chapter is shorter than anything i'd expect to write for this fic, but I really just wanted to set a tone. Even if you guys say you don't want to read more, i'll probably keep writing. you know me. I can never stay away from the idea of writing about an emotional wreck of a person.**

**Reviews make me happy :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I guess by the number of follows and favorites that people do actually want me to continue with this. I aim to please :)**

**I don't know just how often I will be adding chapters to this. I really want to aim for at least once a week. Maybe more if I have time. You never know. I'm actually now sitting in my new college dorm room (exciiitttiiiinnnggg) and writing, and have my first class in... 40 minutes. So, depending on how busy life keeps me, that's how often you'll be getting more chapters haha**

**And again, I am sorry about the length. I have more written, but I thought that that goes better together as a whole chunk and that artistically, it would just make sense to break it off here.**

**Enjoy **

Santana woke the next afternoon with a pounding headache. Nothing new for her, but that didn't make it any less of a bitch. Her body ached. Deep within her bones, she felt a pull. A need. A craving.

Groggily, she fought against her body to lift herself from her bed and dig through her top dresser drawer. Her hand grabbed onto the first baggie she could find, not caring what it was. When she saw the dried green leaves, she instantly pulled out a blunt, keeping it within her plump lips while she dug through her socks until she grabbed a hold of the cold plastic lighter.

With a few exhaling puffs, she lit the other end and saw the smoke. The moment she inhaled, it was like it filled her entire being. She shut her eyes in relief as a feeling of utter calmness washed over her body. She exhaled, letting all of the worry travel away with it.

Until she glanced down at her alarm clock. "Fucking shit," she mumbled, getting out of bed and almost tripping as the comforter wrapped through her legs. With the blunt still in her mouth, she stripped herself of her clothing and searched for clean underwear and jeans. She put the blunt out against the metal of her dresser and grabbed her purse and a t-shirt, struggling to put it over her head as she ran out the door and towards her car.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot at the little coffee shop where she worked, Santana managed to pull her hair into a (messy) ponytail that was rather acceptable and put on enough foundation to cover the dark circles under her eyes that left Santana wondering if they were permanent.

The bell rang over her head as she rushed in and her manager, Glen, glanced up from his spot at the register. "You're late," he said as he finished ringing a customer up.

Santana grabbed a brown apron from one of the hooks and slipped it over her head after putting down her purse. "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

She took his place at the register and smiled at the next customer. "How can I help you?"

The man barely looked up from his cell phone as he answered, "Medium caramel coffee. Just a little bit of milk. No sugar."

Santana smiled and got to work making his coffee.

"Fifth time this month," her boss said from his spot in the café. "Are you making a habit of this?"

Santana picked up the cup of steaming hot blackness and put it on the counter to put in the cream. The main reason Santana knew that she wanted to work at a coffee shop is because she knows she has an unhealthy coffee obsession. There was something about the smell that had a calming effect on her.

"No sir," she answered, putting the lid on it and giving it to the man. She counted out his change and put it in his hand with a wish for a nice day before turning to her boss. "It was just a really rough night and I had so much on my mind that I kept myself up way too late thinking in my head, and then I guess I wore myself out so much that I overslept."

"Bullshit, Lopez," he said, taking in her appearance. Santana Lopez was beautiful. Exceptionally beautiful. But today, as with many days lately, her appearance didn't do anything for her. Her hair was disheveled and frizzy. Her clothes not ironed. Her makeup was haphazardly thrown on her face to hide the black circles, and her eyeliner was crooked.

And yet she still maintained a level of goddess-like beauty even in ruin.

Glen knew that there were things going on in Santana's life. He knew from the very vague conversations they've had about life on those rare occasions when Santana opened up, he got little glimpses of what was happening behind the dark curtain she keeps around herself. And even then, he knew almost nothing other than the fact that this girl, more so than any of his other employees, _needed_ this job.

Glen sighed. "Okay. Forty-five minutes late this morning means you're staying forty-five minutes later this afternoon to make up the time."

Santana nodded enthusiastically as she turned to face the next customer who came in through the door.

The day passed by at varying speeds, depending on the time of day. The mornings were usually relatively busy, with people going to work and needing their caffeine fix. Afternoons were usually the students who were there to grab a cup on the way to their next class. But evening was Santana's favorite part. Evening was when the coffee shop dimmed the lighting just a little bit to give it a cozier setting. Evening was when there were people in groups chatting around tables, and people with laptops typing away. Evening was when there was a wonderful mix of hushed talking and whatever smooth music happens to be playing over the radio that day.

Santana was cleaning a coffee pot around 6pm singing quietly under her breath when the sound of the bell over the door caught her attention. She looked up for just a second and found her heart beating erratically when they caught the sight of angelic white hair and unbelievably blue eyes.

She cast her eyes back down on the pot and continued working. She could feel those eyes on her. It was as if they could see right through her.

"Hey," a soft voice said. After another second, Santana finally looked up at met those eyes and it felt like her breath was rushing out of her body.

Santana smiled. "What can I get you?"

Brittany glanced up at the menu. "I'll have a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, and then chocolate fudge and sprinkles on it."

Santana cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. "Coming right up."

Brittany remained standing at the counter. Santana saw Brittany watching her as she worked on her drink.

"I didn't know you worked here," Brittany said. "I come here a couple times a month, but I've never actually seen you before."

Santana shrugged as she started filling the top of the cup with a layer of whipped cream and fudge. "My hours are a bit weird. Life gets in the way, you know? But I'm here almost every day."

She placed Brittany's drink on the counter in front of her and Brittany smiled as she handed Santana a ten dollar bill for her four dollar coffee. Santana started reaching for the register to make her change.

"Then maybe I should start coming here more often," Brittany said, and walked out before Santana ever had the chance.

As the days passed, Santana thought that maybe Brittany's flirting was nothing. Every time the bell would ring over the doorway, there was something in Santana's heart that would flicker. It was like a hint of hope that maybe she'd see a flash of blonde and beautiful blue eyes and that Brittany would re-enter her life. But with each passing day and no sight of Brittany, Santana's hope grew less and less each day.

It wasn't until a full week later that Santana happened to glance up at the doorway and felt her heart stop beating in her chest. Brittany opened the door and walked up to the counter with a smile on her face.

Santana looked up at her. It seemed that every time she looked at her, she saw something different. Now she saw the tiny flecks of green swirled with her blue eyes like a stained glass window. She saw the streaks of pale blonde that was almost white and of something that Santana could only describe as honey mixed in with her beautiful blonde hair. Santana saw the tiniest hint of freckles across her pale cheeks and shoulders. She saw the small creases near her eyes and the corners of her mouth when her lips turned into a beautiful smile.

Santana's heart was beating erratically in her chest. "What can I get you?" she asked, surprised at how calm and smooth her voice was considering the marching band that was parading around inside of her.

"Vanilla bean coolata, extra sugar and whipped cream."

Santana smiled as she got busy making her drink. "You have a sweet tooth, don't you," she said with a chuckle.

Brittany smiled. "What's the point of life without a little sugar?"

Santana handed her the drink and Brittany handed her a ten dollar bill.

"Keep the change," Brittany said. She turned around and started heading out of the coffee shop when she turned around suddenly. "You wanna do something later?"

Santana looked up at her. "Tonight?"

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah. What time do you get off of work?"

"In a half hour."

"Oh," Brittany said with a smile. She went over to one of the little tables and picked up a copy of the newspaper. "I can wait."

Santana couldn't help but smile.

**eh. i'm not too proud of this. I've written better. I just haven't had the time to truly sit down and write this all out and really put the same amount of thought and effort that I usually put into the other things that I write. But i'm promising improvement. I have ideas brewing in my mind for this story. No worries.**

**Reviews make me happy :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**So I've decided that i'm going to stick with shorter chapters. Yes it means that you guys won't be getting as much with each chapter, but it also means that the chapters will come more frequently, which should be a good thing :)**

**granted, i'm still in school, managing class work, a social life, and just general living all while trying to sleep enough to actually function like a human being. And I have my bad days where I just don't feel like doing anything, including no writing. So during those days, I won't write, and i'm sorry.**

**but I try to give you guys chapters as often as I can manage. So here you go**

**Enjoy :)**

As time ticked past her, Santana's anxiety level rose. For one, she was about to hang out with this hot blonde. This is the hot blonde who offered her a ride when Santana was drunk out of her mind. This is the hot blonde who saw the slummy neighborhood that Santana called home. This is the hot blonde whose incredibly blue eyes pierced through her very being that night when Santana was letting herself be taken to a bedroom by a stranger.

And as if that wasn't enough, craving was coursing through Santana's body. It felt like her bones were hollow. Her hands fidgeted and noises became just too loud for her ears to handle. In a paranoia, her eyes began to jump back and forth between the action at hand and Brittany's eyes, which were on her phone rather than her own. But Santana thought she knew. She thought that Brittany would be able to taste Santana's near palpable need.

Brown eyes landed on the clock on the far wall. She had two minutes until her shift was over, but it didn't matter. She left her station at the register and went into the employee bathroom, locking the door behind her. She reached into her purse and pulled out a compact mirror, within which was a stashed little baggie of a fine white powder.

She poured a bit onto the granite countertop of the bathroom and took out her credit card, watching with a demented fascination as the powder move while she shuffled it around, getting rid of any clumps and making it into a fine line. Only once the line was to her satisfaction, she put her finger on her left nostril and inhaled sharply with the right as she moved her face from top the top of the line to the bottom, taking in all of the powder.

She threw her head back and sighed. The euphoria was almost instantaneous. She wet her finger under the tap and cleaned up around her nose, not wanting any clear signs of her activities to be visible, and fixed up her hair before heading back into the main room where a blue-eyed Brittany was still sitting.

Santana walked up behind her and saw a game of Candy Crush and almost laughed. This girl was too cute.

"So what did you want to do?" Santana asked.

Brittany looked up at her and the blue of her eyes seemed to glow even more. There was something about those eyes. They looked at Santana with such a joyful glee that she was completely unaccustomed to. The very thought of it made her shudder.

"Its up to you, really," Brittany said. Her voice was as sweet as cotton candy. Santana hated cotton candy. She thought of the cavities and the sickly feeling you get in your stomach when you've had too much.

And yet, she found herself not minding this flavor.

"Well," Santana offered, how bout we go over to my house so I can change out of this, and we'll decide then."

Brittany smiled and reached into her bag to grab her keys. Santana chuckled at the sight. The entire thing was so cluttered with various large, fuzzy key chains that she was surprised Brittany was even able to find her car key on it.

Brittany stood up but didn't move. Santana became acutely aware of just how close they were to each other. Toe to toe. Less than a foot of space separated their faces. A feeling came gnawing at Santana's gut. It was just like the desire. It was like her desire for that white powder, or for pot, or drinking or sex. This was entirely different and yet intoxicating all the same. Her instinct told her to take a step back to escape that gnaw, and yet she couldn't find it within her to fight the feeling.

Or maybe that was just the mind of an addict talking.

Santana's eyes fought to remain locked on Brittany's unbelievable blue, but there was something so knowing about them that Santana felt naked. Instead, her eyes traveled down to the blonde's thin, pink lips, and Santana's stomach dropped.

She never thought of herself as a lesbian. Not even bisexual. She acknowledged the fact that there were some fucking attracted women in this world, but she never saw herself as someone who would date a woman. An occasional drunken night, sure. But never a romantic relationship.

And yet, Brittany's eyes seemed just to inviting and hypnotizing that they made Santana question everything she ever thought about her sexuality.

The corners of Brittany's lips tugged into the tiniest of smiles and Santana's eyes snapped back to hers. "I'll follow you in my car?" she asked.

Santana nodded dumbly and turned around, almost knocking into a chair behind her in her walk to the door, glad that she didn't need to see Brittany's smile, even though she felt it burning a hole in her back.

They drove to Santana's house and the entire time she felt incredibly naked and self-conscious. It was stupid really. Brittany had already seen her house. Brittany had seen her neighborhood. Anyone who lived in the vicinity would have known that this part of the city isn't exactly a part where you go for leisurely walks with your dog.

Not unless you live here. Not unless you roam the streets like a pro and the people here know not to touch you.

Not unless you're Santana Lopez. Party girl and easy fuck.

But if you're Brittany, with the angel blonde hair and the bubble gum smile. If you're Brittany, with the beautiful blue eyes that harbor all of the innocence a child would see in the world, this isn't the right place for you. Not unless you have a death wish.

As Santana grove deeper and deeper into the ghetto towards the heart of it all where she lived, she wondered what Brittany thought of her. She wondered if Brittany's mind would immediately jump to the drugs and the sex and the gangs and the violence. She wondered if Brittany would immediately judge her and view her as a threat.

They pulled up in front of Santana's run down house and the neighbor's dogs began barking like mad. Santana got out of the car and slammed her door. "Calm the fuck down, TJ," she yelled, and almost instantly the dog's barking ceased. Santana then became acutely aware of the fact that someone was standing directly behind her.

Years of living here made her panic. Gangs. Shooters. Rapists. Drugged out whack jobs. Nothing had a happy ending. And then she smelled the sweetness of Brittany's coffee this morning along with a sweetness that was entirely her own, and all of the muscles in Santana's body relaxed.

"Good watch dog," Brittany said. "And he listens. I tried to teach my cat to do something once, but he's been pretty cranky since I tried to get him to quit smoking."

Santana turned and furrowed her brow. "Smoking?" she asked incredulously. "Your cat smokes?"

Brittany nodded and Santana noted the true sadness that crossed her face. "He promised me that he stopped, but then I found his stash of cigarettes, and so I had to intervene."

Santana tried her hardest not to laugh, but it was difficult. Her mouth turned into a full smile and a hearty laugh escaped her lips. When she stopped, she looked at Brittany, who was looking at her with just the tiniest of smiles.

"You have a pretty laugh," she stated. "You should laugh more often."

Santana stopped. She didn't know how to tell Brittany that she hadn't laughed like before she met her. There was a time not too long ago that she wasn't sure if she would ever laugh like that again. Instead, she gave Brittany a small uncomfortable smirk before turning to head into her house.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," Santana said, closing the door behind them and locking the three locks inside. "Make yourself at home."

Santana went upstairs and put on a pair of tight black skinny jeans, loving the way the material seemed to constrict her already tiny body until she became no more than a skeletal frame. When she went downstairs, Brittany had her head in her fridge.

"You hungry?" Santana chuckled, sitting down at the table.

"There's like nothing in here," Brittany commented. "Nothing. And a lot of stuff expired a while ago."

A wave of self-consciousness washed over Santana. "Yeah I got super busy," she lied. "I'm never home to eat because I'm always out doing things, and then I don't have the time or the energy to go out to replace the things that are in there. It's okay. They're obviously not missed."

Santana internally fist pumped. It wasn't a _huge_ lie. But then why did she feel so guilty? She didn't have a reason to be. She wasn't lying to someone near and dear to her heart. She was telling little lies that she's told other people before to this complete stranger standing in her kitchen. She didn't need to impress Brittany. She didn't owe it to the blonde to let her in on the gritty and grimy details of her fucked up life. And yet that didn't remove from the fact that there was something deep in her gut that was telling her she was making bad choices.

Brittany pulled out half a loaf of bread. "Only a few slices are moldy, but it's okay. The ducks won't mind."

Santana frowned. "Ducks?"

"Yeah," Brittany said with a smile so bright that it made Santana's insides hurt. "We could go to the park and feed the ducks!"

There was something about this girl that drove Santana crazy. Something about the giddy childish innocence she possessed and the pure glee in her eyes that Santana couldn't get enough of. Brittany was like another addiction. Something about the idea of that amount of sweetness made Santana's stomach churn, but she couldn't get enough of her.

And it was for that very reason that Santana found herself sitting on the bank of the lake at the pond, skipping stones for as far as they could travel while Brittany tossed chunks of bread to the ducks.

When she ran out of bred, Brittany sat down on the bank beside Santana, just as the sun was starting to set over the water. The colors blended together like a watercolor painting of pinks and oranges reflecting over the lake and the pure blondeness of Brittany's hair.

"You're weird," Brittany blurted out suddenly. Santana fought hard to not burst out laughing.

"_I'm_ the weird one?" she asked incredulously. Brittany nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "You're quiet. And your eyes are sad. And it's like, there's a fire behind them, but there's something blocking the happy. Why aren't you happy?"

Santana sighed and looked ahead at the setting sun, watching as with every passing second, it fell further and further behind the horizon. "It's a long story, Brittany," she sighed. "Life isn't always happy."

"I know that," Brittany said. "Bad things happen. Bad things happen to me too, but I keep smiling."

"I have a feeling that your definition of bad things in life and the bad things that I've seen are two very different types of bad things."

Brittany shook her head with all of the seriousness Santana thought she could muster. "It doesn't matter how bad bad is," she stated. "Bad is bad for everyone. But regardless of how bad your bad is, the bad will get better."

It was Santana's turn to shake your head. "You have no idea what bad is, Brittany. I've seen bad."

Santana was surprised at the silence that fell over them. She looked over and saw a tear glitter its path down Brittany's cheek. "You don't know what bad I've seen, Santana. You don't even know."

Santana knew that Brittany was hurting, but she didn't pry. Instead, they reveled in each other's presence and soaked in the comfortable silence. In that moment, it didn't matter to Santana how her body needed more drugs. It didn't matter that her bones were aching for another hit of _anything_. It didn't even matter that she felt naked and vulnerable with all of the vague explanations she gave Brittany.

Vague as they may be, it was more than she exposed to anyone in a very long time.

In that moment, nothing mattered. In that moment, everything was perfect.

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'll be honest. I know that I changed up my personal writing style quite a bit in this story, but I kinda like how it's working out. There is a lot more of a... poetic quality to it. It's a really great way to just be all creative and take some creative liberties because i'm not in any way shape or form confining myself to typical literary rules. I love the way this story is coming along. I know that so far it's been rather anticlimactic, but stick with me. We'll see where my brain takes this. It has a tendency to pull some crazy shit without me even realizing it.**

**Enjoy **

Santana's dreams were plagued with visions of Brittany. All she saw was rivers of eyes as blue as anything she's ever seen before. Long locks of luscious blonde seemed to seep from the heavens, and life was filled with bubblegum smiles and the sound of gleeful giggles. But that doesn't stop when the dream turns into a nightmare and there's a hollow pounding in her head. Her eyes move frantically beneath her lids, searching for a fix in this magical Brittany-filled dreamland. She feels her body starting to shake, and within her dream, she hopes that that's it. Maybe she's only dreaming. Maybe her body isn't going into a total panic mode. Maybe, just maybe, on the outside she's cool, calm and collected.

But when a sharp stab seemed to blossom within her chest right beneath where her heart is (supposed to be), she jolts up in bed and notices that her entire body is covered in a thin film of sweat. Her loose t-shirt damply clung to her near-skeletal body and her hair was plastered against her face.

So much for dreaming.

She wondered when she would find herself sick of the routine. Day in and day out, life seemed to repeat itself. It was the monotonous motions of wake up, have a fix, go to work, have a fix, maybe go to a party, maybe remember to eat food, have a fix, sleep. She was too young to be bored of life. Twenty four years of age isn't the time when you should get so caught up in a repetitive routine that you're bored and need to find new and exciting ways of entertaining yourself. You're twenty four. Life should be exciting as it is.

Santana graduated high school with high honors. Shocking, considering she spent most of her junior and senior year up in the clouds. But she was salutatorian. She ran for student council. She was captain of the cheer squad and took them to nationals and won. That's what Santana did. She was a functioning addict.

So how did she end up where she is now? How did she go from being HBIC, on top of the world, with every other person on the planet eating from the palm of her hand and having all of the opportunities life could offer her sitting at her feet, to this; a wasted shell of a person, reliant on any drug she could get her hand on that day?

Santana wasn't picky.

Of course she had her preferences. Everyone has a drug of choice. But sometimes you fall in so deep that it doesn't matter to you anymore.

Beggers can't be choosers.

She peeled herself away from the damp-with-sweat sheets lying on her mattress and tried to roll over her body towards the edge of her bed. Every move she made was painful. It was like her body was just a hollow mess of dead weight she had to carry everywhere she went.

Back in high school, she was hot. She was lean muscle, toned stomach, legs for days and eyes bright with fire. But that was gone. Her eyes were dull and faded. Her skin didn't glow. Her hair lost its sheen and her muscles were eaten away by her body, pissed off at her for not feeding it food.

Sometimes, the high is all the food she needs.

She wondered if Brittany would get it. She wondered if Brittany would even understand. She figured that even Brittany, who doesn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box, had to have figured out that Santana was all kinds of messed up.

She could only imagine what she looked like in Brittany's blue eyes. She wondered what Brittany would think if she actually _saw_ her.

That was a weird thought to her. Santana never cared what people thought of her. She gave up caring when she realized that the high would take away the beauty she worked hard for anyway.

Why bother try if it was going to be snatched away from her?

Maybe that's why Santana wasn't the same girl she was in high school. Back then, she was motivation. That fire in her eyes would get her anything she wanted, because she wasn't willing to back down to anything. People in the halls feared her because they knew that if she wanted to get to something, she would knock over and step on anyone who would ever dare be stupid enough to get in her way.

The only thing Santana feels that passionate about now is her next fix. With nothing but pure desperation, she reached over to her bedside table and searched for her little baggie of the magical white powder. The white powder that made all of the bad go away, even though Santana knew that it brought its own type of bad right along with it.

But that didn't matter. Consequences didn't matter. The burn in her nose and the occasional nose bleed seemed tolerable if it meant that she got to experience that single moment of pure euphoria when the high hit her brain. In that moment, everything was okay.

Santana inhaled sharply and threw her head back in a sigh. A wave of happy drowned every one of her senses. Logically, she knew it didn't make sense. But, all she could feel, smell, see, hear and _taste_, was happy. And it was that level of happy that made life manageable. She reached for her phone and saw that she had a text.

_From: Brittany_

_Hey Sanny. Can I call you Sanny? I like it. It fits you. It's short and cute, kinda like you. Anyways, I was planning on going for a jog later today around the park, probably like 1pm, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me._

Santana glanced at the time. Half past noon. She really needed to work on regulating her sleep schedule so that she slept at normal people hours. But she sent Brit a text that she'd meet her at the spot where they had fed the ducks, and found a way to completely peel herself from her bed and over to her closet.

It had been a while since Santana last went running. She used to all the time. She used to be the pinnacle of great shape. She would run and lift and jump like it was her job (because it sorta was) and look damn good doing it. But now, even the size extra small gym shorts that she owned drooped slightly on her thin hips. The tanktop that should have been tight spandex against toned abs fell loosely against her tiny frame and her collar bones stuck out so prominently that it looked like the bone was about to poke through her dull skin.

With a hint of blush to add some color to her face and putting her lifeless hair into a ponytail, Santana grabbed her car keys and drove over to the park. As she was getting out of the car, she saw Brittany already there, stretching. Her lime green shorts, mismatching rainbow knee highs and bright pink tshirt made Santana smile.

Santana hated that it made her smile.

"Hey there!" Brittany said with an excited giggle when she saw Santana walking up. "You ready for this?"

Santana's smile didn't fade. There was something about Brittany's intoxicating bubbly nature that brightened up Santana's day even when she didn't want it to.

"Ready as I'm gonna be," she said with a laugh. "But I hope you can keep up with me. I was sorta a big shit in high school."

Brittany quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Let me guess… little miss cheerleader?"

Santana smiled. "How'd you guess?"

Brittany shrugged. "You look like enough of a bitch to be a damn good cheerleader."

Before Santana could reply back, Brittany took off at a slow jog. Santana ran a bit faster to catch up to her. "Did you run track in school or something?" Santana asked.

"No. I dance. Been doing it my whole life. I run a lot to stay in shape."

Santana smirked. "It's working."

Brittany paused for a minute and laughed. "Is that you calling me hot?"

This time, Santana said nothing. Instead, she let her legs carry her as fast as they could without snapping. She heard the sound of Brittany's giggle and footsteps as she too picked up speed.

Running was something Santana missed. She used to spend hours just running through her streets.

There was something so wonderfully calming about the repetitive thumping of her sneakers against the dark pavement, sending vibrations through her legs.

There was something so wonderfully poetic about how her body was carrying itself through the darkness, wherever she wanted it to take her.

There was something so wonderfully soothing about the knowledge that each step she took burned calories, shedding her of fat and building her into muscle.

Each breath she took into her lungs brought in oxygen, giving her that little ounce more she needed to take another couple steps.

But Santana wasn't that anymore. She knew it. From just a few moments after her starting to sprint, she realized just how badly her body was destroyed. The cool breaths weren't replenishing her energy. Instead they felt like something stabbing her. Something clawing at her being from the inside. Some terrible, horrible monster.

A monster like Addiction.

Her heart was beating in her chest so quickly that she heard it. It felt like every part of her body

thump

thump

thumped with her beating heart. Her head started spinning and her eyes started closing in on her, making her feel like she was looking through a tunnel that was narrowing more and more with each passing second.

Santana slowed down and rested her hands on her slightly bent knees as she tried to catch her breath, trying to not expose to Brittany that she was on the verge of passing out.

Brittany ran up beside her and stopped. Santana glanced up and hated her for just a second. Other than a few drops of sweat dripping from her brow and a slightly heaving chest, you wouldn't even be able to tell that she had been running. Meanwhile, Santana felt like death.

"You okay?" Brittany asked, looking down at Santana curiously. "You're not looking too hot."

Santana's vision was almost completely gone and her body started turning cold, but she still snorted. "I always look hot."

She couldn't see Brittany roll her eyes at her. In fact, she saw nothing until the next time her eyes were opening and she found herself in the passenger seat of a car and there were trees whizzing past her. Slowly she turned her head, fighting against the stiffness of her neck. She struggled to find her tongue in the dry Sahara of her mouth.

"Brittany," she managed. "Where are we going?"

"My house," Brittany said. "You passed out, so I picked you up and carried you to the car. You can rest on my couch and I'll make you some food."

Food.

At the sound of it, Santana's stomach growled as if in response. How long had it been since she had eaten real food? Her brain searched for an answer, but only registered a different type of hunger. A hunger that you didn't feel in your stomach but instead in your bones. A hollow ache and need.

Santana's mind started pounding. She needed a fix.

Fast

Soon

Now

But she couldn't tell Brittany that. She fought against the marching band in her brain and let herself be led out of the car once they parked in front of Brittany's house. She let herself be led to the couch. So much softer than her own couch, in a living room that was so much fancier than her own, in a house that cost much more than her own, in a much safer neighborhood.

She couldn't help but imagine what Brittany would ever say if she saw how Santana lived.

"Tea or coffee?" Brittany asked.

"Coffee," Santana said instantly, knowing her infatuation with the drink. "Black no sugar."

Brittany made a face but turned and started heading towards the kitchen. "That's gross," she called over her shoulder.

Santana thought of nothing but a high. She couldn't get her mind off of it. Every time she tried to force another thought into her mind, all she could see was primal desire for anything that could help her get her fix.

Fast

Soon

Now

Brittany walked into the living room with the coffee and handed it to Santana, who reached at the cup with eager hands.

It wasn't the drug she was looking for, but coffee had a special place in Santana's heart.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff," Brittany said, taking a sip of her own. "It's bitter and dark."

Santana chuckled into her steaming mug. "Just like me," she mumbled. "It's a perfect fit."

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I wish there was a level of consistency to how i was writing this whole thing out and when i was managing to post it. Instead, i'm writing in short little snippits whenever i get the chance. School and school work takes up awkward intervals of my daily life. then i actually try to have a social life and go out with friends. I try to fit sleep into that equation. And then there's this girl who has been occupying a lot of my time ;)**

**nothing official yet, but... we'll see haha**

**anyways, here's the next chapter. I hope it's enough to make up for my random posting schedule.**

**Enjoy**

It became a habit Santana wasn't expecting. Every couple of days, Brittany would show up at her work around the time Santana got off and the two of them would find something to do. Some days they'd go out for ice cream or they'd go mini golfing. Once, Brittany even convinced Santana to go to the aquarium with her. It didn't seem to matter what they were doing as long as they were together.

But somewhere in Santana's mind it felt like the two of them were never truly alone. This haunting feeling deep in her gut would follow her around wherever she went, often interrupting the alone time she and Brittany were supposed to be sharing. It was like regardless of how much Brittany tried to hold onto Santana, addiction had its claw in her somewhere, pulling her back with every attempt.

After weeks had gone past of the two of them hanging out, Santana found it strange how close they had become. She knew all of Brittany's little quirks and she loved every single one more and more each day. She loved how Brittany crinkled her nose when she was thinking. She loved how her eyes would light up. She loved the sound of her laugh. She loved how Brittany saw the good in life even when life was really shitty.

That was one thing about Brittany that Santana envied. It seemed like no matter how terrible life could be at any one time, it was never bad enough to stop Brittany from seeing the good.

Santana glanced up at Brittany, who was sitting on a blanket beside her by the lake as they watched the sun set yet again. "Hey Brit," Santana said, noting how her voice was getting scratchy from not using it. They had been sitting in pure silence for at least two hours.

"Yeah?" Brittany's eyes flickered down to meet Santana's for just a second before glancing back up to the melting hues of oranges and reds. Her milky white hand tangled itself within Santana's chocolate curls.

"I'm jealous."

Brittany's eyes looked back at hers in the blatant admission. "Jealous of what?"

"Jealous of how you always see the good in the world. Can you show me the goodness in the world?"

Brittany shook her head. "I can't _show_ you goodness in the world. The meaning of goodness is in the word." Her blue eyes danced back towards the scene in front of her as if that profound statement did not escape her lips.

Santana let those words linger within her for weeks. Every time she saw Brittany's blue eyes again, they'd echo in her head.

_Goodness_

What is it? How does she get it? How does she find it, grab onto it, and hold onto it forever and ever without letting go?

Sometimes she thought that maybe the goodness was in Brittany. Maybe this blonde, blue-eyed girl was an angel sent for her from the heavens to show her the way to whatever life she was supposed to be living. She was sure that that life wasn't this empty shell that she is now. She was sure that the world had better plans for her than alcohol and cocaine. But it was a life she was content to live. For now.

It's not like anyone knew. It was a secret Santana kept closer to her heart than she kept any other. Other than her dealer and a couple people she's partied with, no one has ever seen the evidence of her hidden life. Santana knew that her body wasn't the same. Her skin was pale, her frame was frail and the bags under her eyes weighed fifty pounds each. But just because she didn't look healthy didn't mean that people would automatically jump to the conclusion that she must be using. At least that's what she had continued to tell herself until Brittany started asking questions.

The questions started out simple. She would ask about why Santana was tired all the time. Or why Santana would get antsy and fidgety. She would wonder about why Santana's eyes would be red or why one moment she could be depressing and angry and then switch to happy rays of sunshine all in one breath. And when Santana would tell her that she's just not feeling well, Brittany would give her this look that meant that she didn't believe a word of it and would just say, "Maybe you should go to a doctor. You're sick a lot."

Sometimes Santana would snap at her harshly and tell her to mind her own business, and Brittany would barely even flinch at the words. Instead, she would just sigh as if she was dealing with a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Santana wasn't exactly the type who would be open with her emotions, so she didn't see herself opening up to Brittany any time soon. For someone who knew Brittany inside and out, Brittany knew very little about the brunette on a personal level. There was something about allowing someone into your head and letting them know what you think and feel that scared the shit out of Santana.

Maybe it meant that she was emotionally crippled. Sometimes it meant that she was a shitty person. And it made her feel bad that Brittany was always a good friend.

Santana wished she was.

She just didn't show it.

She drove over to Brittany's house to pick her up to go to a cute little diner she had heard about the day before. A while back, the blonde had mentioned that she had an unhealthy obsession (Santana knows all about those) with cheese fries, and then when she heard about this tiny little out-of-the-way diner, she knew that they had to go.

As soon as she pulled up to Brittany's house, the blonde flew out of the house and into the car. She looked over at Santana in the driver's seat and instantly her smile faded and turned to a frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked. The level of concern in her voice was palpable.

"Nothing," Santana said, pulling out of the driveway and heading down the street. "Why would something be wrong?"

"You look like there's something wrong. Your eyes are red and your nose is runny and you just look a little sad and broken. You sure you're okay?"

Santana wondered if Brittany saw the way her hand instinctively gripped the leather steering wheel a little bit tighter. "I'm feeling a bit sick again," she lied. She always felt terrible when she lied to Brittany. Lying to Brittany is like telling a first grader that Santa doesn't exist.

There was that look again. Brittany didn't believe a word of it.

"You act funny," Brittany stated, turning her head to look straight out the window in front of her.

Santana averted her eyes from the road for just a second to steal a glance at the blonde. "Funny how?"

"Not haha funny," Brittany explained. "You sniffle a lot. One day you're super hyper and bouncing off walls and just super giddy happy rainbows, and then the next day you're really quiet and you look like you're going to fall asleep at any second. There are times when you don't look me in the eye and you keep glancing around like there's someone watching you."

Nerves grew within Santana's gut, multiplying and growing until they buzzed around within her like a swarm of bees, itching at her very soul. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something to say, but there's little to say about such accusations.

But then, no accusations have been made. All Brittany has done was state facts. None of which Santana could deny either. But there was no single thing that could connect all of those things together to come up as a logical explanation for why she would act this way.

Well, there is one, but she hoped Brittany's mind would never reach it. She couldn't imagine having that talk with the bubbly blonde with the sunshine smile. She couldn't imagine having to utter the words _addiction¸ drugs,_ and _withdrawal_ and have to look into a set of piercing blue eyes. She couldn't imagine being the one to corrupt Brittany in such a way. And so, when the words gently fluttered from Brittany's lips, they surprised Santana.

"I'm not completely stupid, you know," Brittany stated, looking at the folded hands in her lap as she spoke. "People tell me I am all the time, but I know the truth. I know that there are things that I don't know. Like, I don't know math or history or science, but I'm really smart when it comes to important things. I know you're not sick Sanny. I've seen the type of sick you are before. It's not a cold or anything like that, but you still need a doctor. You need someone."

If it were even possible, Santana's stomach sunk deeper and deeper into her body. "What are you talking about, Brit?" Santana questioned, grateful for the years of lying that enabled her to not give any hints that she was scared shitless over what could possible come from the blonde's mouth next.

"I have an older sister," Brittany stated casually. "She's seven years older than me. For a long time, I thought she was a superhero. She could do everything I couldn't do. She could lift heavy things. She could reach things on the top shelf when I was still short. She convinced mommy to give us cookies before dinner. She could always find the remote control when it fell between the couch cushions. Allison was everything I ever wanted to be. Then when she was 21 and I was 14, she started changing. She would always wear long sleeves and dark colors. Her skin started getting chalky and gross. Her lips were always chapped and her fingers started shaking. Some days she acted like she was dancing on the moon and then she went days and days without coming out of her room."

Brittany took a breath and continued. "I was 14, so my parents didn't walk to talk about it in front of me, but I heard them use the word _drugs_. Over and over again. Like, an annoying commercial that I couldn't get out of my head. They tried to get her to get help, but you know that you can't help anyone who doesn't want to be helped. Because I was young, she tried to keep the worst parts from me. The longer her problem went on, the angrier she would get when someone tried confronting her about it. I tried to ignore it. After all, she was a superhero to me. And, superheroes may have their weaknesses, but they never lose."

Santana fought to swallow a lump that was rising in her throat. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. This wasn't just Brittany finding out about her addiction. No, sweet little innocent Brittany not only knew of it, but she _lived_ it before. She knew all of the gritty, grimy details of what addiction could do to a person.

"What happened to your sister?" Santana asked, no longer trying to hide the quiver in her voice. Instead she focused on trying to keep the tears from escaping her eyes.

Brittany looked over at Santana for the first time since her story started. "Every day it was like there were bigger and brighter signs of the trouble that was going to come. I mean, I was 14. I didn't know that it wasn't normal for a person to be able to throw back an entire bottle of whiskey by themselves and still be conscious. The older I got, though, the more she appreciated what I did for her. I think. Like, there was a pattern. Sometimes I cleaned up after her when she passed out so daddy wouldn't be too mad. Or, when I would check in on her to make sure she was still breathing. Sometimes she appreciated it. But then I was her voice of reason, and she hated it. Like, when I would tell her that she was acting like an idiot.

"She's in rehab now," Brittany continued. "Been there for two months as of next week. But the battle was a long one. I mean, she's almost 30 now and still in rehab."

Silence fell over the car. Santana could only wonder what was going on in Brittany's head. She wondered if it matched the chaotic hectic mess of thoughts that were floating through her own.

"Have you known this about me from the beginning?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "Not at first, no," she said. "But after a couple of times of us hanging out, I started noticing some of the same signs that I saw in Allison."

"So why didn't you just jump ship?" Santana asked as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. "Why stick around? You know nothing about me. You know nothing of my shit. You don't know why I started using, or when, or what I use. You don't know if I'm ever going to get out of this deep dark funk or if I'm just gonna be another body in a dark alleyway because of sex, money and drugs."

Brittany paused and bit down on the corner of her lip in what looked like thought. Santana could see the gears moving around behind her eyes in her mind as she tried to think of exactly how to phrase her next sentence.

"You're surrounded by fog," Brittany exclaimed, nodding ever so slightly to herself, as if she was satisfied with her word choice. "It's like, the drugs are a barrier around you that is keeping people away from you and you away from people. But you need people. Everyone needs someone sometimes. But I noticed that you didn't have anyone. There are times when I imagine just like, reaching into the fog and taking you by the hand and pulling you out of there and leading you to a place where there is no fog and there's only happy rainbows and sunshine."

Santana frowned. "Is that what this whole thing has been about? Did you only try to get close to me out of pity? Did you feel bad for the addict who has no friends to try to help her out of this shit hole that she fell into?"

She didn't notice that her voice was rising. She didn't notice that her hand was shaking. She noticed her heart beat starting to vibrate in her head. She noticed her breath getting hitched in her throat. She noticed that unwelcomed itch all over her entire body, trying to get some sort of escape from this intense stress she suddenly found herself drowning in.

A stress because of that very itch.

Brittany's face contorted into a concerned confusion. "What? No. Of course not. I didn't even know you had a problem when I first saw you. I thought maybe you were just an antsy type of person."

"But when you figured it out is when you decided to turn me into your little charity case." Santana hated the venom that was spit out with those words. Her tone was so accusatory that she felt Brittany shrinking just a little more and more with every word hitting her face.

"I thought I could help you like I helped my sister," Brittany said meekly. "I thought that maybe you just needed someone who cared."

Santana heard the implications. _I care_. The words echoed through her head in Brittany's sweet sugar voice. But, Santana wasn't having any of it. Her jaw hardened as she bit down tight to try to stop a flurry of angry, meaningless shit to fly out and hit Brittany harder than she would ever mean to. Without any warning, Santana undid her seatbelt and got out of the car, walked over to Brittany's side and opened the door.

Confused blue eyes looked up at her. "What are you doing?"

"Take my car. Drive it to your house. Leave the key in the glove box. I'll get my car later."

With that, Santana turned around and started heading down the street.

"How are you going to get home?" Brittany called out.

Santana didn't even glance over her shoulder. "I'm fucking walking," she yelled, fingers running over the thin plastic baggie in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

**Because nothing can be without speed bumps haha**

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